Before locking the Palace Gate, Song Zhiyuan dragged his weary body out, and Jiang Fula, who was waiting beside the gate, quickly came forward with an urgent expression on his face.
"Prime Minister, something has happened."
Song Zhiyuan furrowed his brows, walked toward the carriage, and asked, "What?"
Jiang Fula walked up to him, his voice low and nearly inaudible, yet just enough to reach the master's ear.
Song Zhiyuan abruptly stopped, his eyes turning sharply towards him, a fierce chill flashed in his eyes, as sharp as a blade, carrying a cold murderous intent.
Beads of sweat dripped down Jiang Fula's forehead, his back completely drenched in sweat.
He was aware of the rumors circulating lately, but never expected them to be aimed at Song Ci; how malicious!
Demon?
Every time Jiang Fula thought of this word, he wished to drag out those slandering his family's Madam and hack them into a thousand pieces, just to see if their hearts were black or covered in filth.
